


10 BSG Song Ficlets

by smolassassinchildx (smolassassinchild)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Meme, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-25
Updated: 2009-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolassassinchild/pseuds/smolassassinchildx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.<br/>2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.<br/>3. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!<br/>4. Do ten of these, then post them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 BSG Song Ficlets

**“I Still Believe” from Miss Saigon**

Sometimes she wakes up expecting to find herself in the cramped space of her rack or in the damp chill of her pathetic tarp-covered excuse for a home with Sam’s warmth beside her. Other times she expects to wake up in the cold New Caprican dirt, sprawled across Lee’s body and listening him mutter her name in his sleep and those are the mornings she most regrets waking up at all

But she wakes up in this same grey bed to the same grey walls in the same grey light. Alone, if she’s lucky. Kara can’t count the times _he_’s been there watching her sleep. He’s said before that she’s beautiful when she sleeps and she’s seen herself in the mirror first thing in the morning before, which only lends to the whole he’s-insane thing.

Kara pulls the covers over her head. She’s not tired but she thinks going back to sleep might be the better option. Maybe, if she’s lucky, she won’t wake up this time.

  
**“The Background” by Third Eye Blind**

The funeral’s over, his mother has gone home and gone to sleep, he’s pretty sure that he’ll seriously hurt his father if forced face to face with him, and of course Kara won’t have anything to do with him right now; so Lee does the only thing he can think of. He goes into the first bar he comes across.

Of course, he’s not a regular there. But Zak and Kara are. Were. And the bartender recognizes him as the third wheel that showed up with them every once in a while, but apparently he hasn’t heard. So Lee doesn’t bother telling him. He didn’t come in here to think about his brother. And he certainly didn’t come in here to think about Kara. He didn’t come in here to think at all.

But the closer to the bottom of his third glass he gets he finds that all he can think about is Kara, standing on the opposite side of the casket trying way too hard to keep it together. He wishes he’d asked her to come, even if it had meant a bitter, sorrowed fist to the face, just so he wouldn’t have to drown his sorrows alone.

  
**“Call Me When You’re Sober” by Evanescence**

“Are you trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning? Because there are easier ways to kill yourself, Kara.”

“Right, want to give me some pointers then, Lee? I’m sure that would make things a hell of a lot easier for you.”

“Yeah, and seeing you self-destruct like this is _fun_ for me.”

“Right. Right. Of course, how could I forget?_ Lee Adama loves me_. Very _sweet_.”

  
**“Ballad for Dead Friends” by Dashboard Prophets**

Kara’s decided she can’t be around the hangar deck whenever Boomer makes a landing, even though the sounds aren’t nearly as bad as they used to be.

She doesn’t hate Alex Quartararo. He’s not a _bad_ guy, might not exactly the brightest star in the Caprican sky but he’s never done anything to her to piss her off the way he does. It was probably the stress, the lack of sleep, the adrenaline, the rage, ~~the fear~~ that did it, but when she saw Boomer step down from her Raptor followed by Crashdown _again_ something inside her snapped. She stormed up to him and hit him hard in the side of his frakking fuzzy head and had to be pulled off of him.

She spends cycle 133 in her rack to get her head clear. Alone with her idols, she wishes she’d been able to say anything to Karl, one last time.

**  
“Virgin State of Mind” by K’s Choice**

She dreams she’s looking in a mirror. She isn’t looking in a mirror. Sharon is staring at herself alright, but it’s not a reflection. Perhaps she’s died, left her body; a disembodied soul watching the life she left behind; perhaps it would be better off that way.

Sharon turns away, but the image follows. It doesn’t follow. There is another one. She twists, spins, writhes, and flees but wherever she goes she cannot escape the reflection that is not a reflection. Stopping, she stares deep into her own dark eyes and a flash of reality jolts her awake.

It’s only a dream.

It’s only a dream.

It’s only a dream.

  
**“All The Small Things” by Blink 182**

Of course no one wishes Kara a happy birthday, she’s never actually told anyone when it is, so she can’t expect anyone to know. Besides it’s just another day. And she goes through her day, just like every other day at the academy, until she’s actually thinking a night alone with a bottle of booze and a book of poetry sounds like a good idea. It’s another thing she’s never told anyone.

And she’s just about to get comfortable when there’s a knock on her door. “What are you doing here, Karl?” He flashes two pieces of paper in front of her face. Concert tickets she realizes.

“Come on, birthday girl.”

How the frak he knew, she’d never find out, but it was possibly the best birthday present ever.

  
**“Take a Chance on Me” from Mamma Mia!**

“This is… ridiculous.”

“Hey, it was your spin, Lee.”

“Why are we doing this? We are not in middle school anymore.”

On some nights yet another triad game seemed just as tedious as flying CAP, and on those nights someone would suggest some childish game and blame it on the booze rather than the need to feel innocent once again.

Spin the bottle had been Hotdog’s idea, of course.

Middle school was right. Lee wasn’t sure who started the chorus, but what began as one low voice somewhere in the crowd, “Do it, do it” transformed into a loud roar that sounded through the rec room “_DO IT, DO IT_.”

“Are you chicken, Apollo?” Kara smirked, her sentence followed by an obscenely obnoxious clucking noise.

With a resigned sigh and all the grace of himself at thirteen, he leaned forward, averting his gaze and pressed his lips to Kara’s. The room erupted in laughter.

They’d later blame the blushing on the booze.

  
**“Hold Me, Bat Boy” from Bat Boy the Musical**

The picture on the front page amused Karl. The image had been so obviously computer edited and he was sure he’d seen the stock photo of a cylon they’d cut and pasted over the head of a baby. “**_Half-Human, Half-Cylon baby born on Leonis_**!” The tabloid declared boldly.

Well, if anything, the Weekly Colonial News was good for a couple of laughs. As he waited for his groceries to be run up, he flipped through a couple of the articles.  
_  
Virgon Movie Star Werewolf Scandal_

Aerelon Government Mind Control Device Discovered

Prophet Predicts Life As We Know It To End in Five Years

With a mild laugh, Karl set the paper back on the shelf, laid down the cubits for her groceries and headed home.

  
**“Walk Through the Fire” from Once More With Feeling**

Kara slumps over the bar, elbows on the counter, eyes fixated on her hands. They are her hands and they look like her hands but are they hers? Are they hands at all? She thinks about high school biology.

Muscles and tendons.

Flesh and bone.

Nerve endings.

She slips her lighter out of her pocket and the hand (the hand?) delivers a quick flick and ignites a flame. She concentrates on the miniature inferno like she’s lining up a shot, and as she brings the blaze close to her hand and feels the heat.

She feels the heat. She feels the skin blazing and is millimeters away from pain and she thinks she’d almost prefer it right now. But she’s pretty sure this is a hand.

She’s just not sure it’s hers.

  
**“Desperation Song” by Carbon Leaf**

It’s dark. It’s quiet. And most importantly they’re alone.

No one comes up to the observation deck. Lee can’t imagine anyone really wants to stare out into the void in front of them right now. The only reason he can look out the window right now, is that it does not look back towards the fleet. He doesn’t think he can stand to stare at their flock and see the ghost of the _Olympic Carrier_.

He knows Kara can’t either, but she won’t say anything about it. In fact, he thinks she might be angry at him, but what else is new. Right now they’re the only two in the world, mass murderers, and while everyone else is asleep for the first time in days here they are. He sits back in a chair and she sits about five seats down with a bottle of something. He wasn’t sure what but anything sounded good about now.

Her hand must’ve shaken, maybe she sobbed, he wasn’t sure, but a bit of alcohol missed her mouth, dribbled down her chin, soaked her shirt and she laughed. It was a bitter, hollow, self-loathing sound, but it was a laugh. She looks down at the mess she’s made of herself and laughs again. If there is ever a time for laughter this certainly isn’t it, but soon he’s laughing too.

It’s not happy, and it’s not fun. But it’s something. It’s air in the lungs and breathing and being alive for another day.


End file.
